I'm hesitant to even post this, as I don't really know if it qualifies as hunting, but there was a critter involved,so here goes...
In 1990, a week before season, myself and my two hunting partners were up scouting the elevated basin we were going to hunt opening day. We eased along the ridgebacks most of the day and by midafternoon decided we should start heading back to the truck. As we neared the valley floor we decided to stop for a break. As it happened, there was a pond below us.
A muskrat had the mis-fortune of cruising across the pond at that time. Like a redneck, I said "Watch this". I had 300gr Sierras in front of 77 gr 4350 in my old Sako 375, and had shot quite a bit at distance with that bullet in the summer. I estimated range to be well over 500 yards and very steep. From sitting, I gave er a little Kentucky windage and touched it off. One of the guys is hollering that he thinks I hit him. Truthfully, I expected to maybe get within a couple of feet, but of course I didn't let that be known.
By the time we tromped down there, the wind had blown what was left of him over to the bank.
To this day, the one guy still tells anyone who will listen about that shot. It does make it hard for me to explain how I clutched up on far larger and closer targets... Just last fall he bought one of those new Leupold rangefinders, and when he was headed up to that same basin, he stopped and lazzed from the pond up to the outcrop I had shot from. 654 YARDS! Yes, it was just a lucky shot, but don't tell anyone.